In the fierce peak of the day it’s quietly they wade With spread arms into the blue breakers rushing white And swim seemingly with no tension, the arms Curved, the head’s gestures circular and slow. They walk dripping back into the air Of nineteen-fifty-five smiling downward from the glare As if modestly, as they move…
The meander of my walking, and through it A sun that swings to go with me at each turn, And sweet fatigue that remains childlike because It works at nothing. Push aggressively enough at the stout weave Of what is, appearances we must take as Being what they seem, and you start to tear through,…
Among polite giraffes swaying their long necks innocent of their loveliness, among cavalier hippoes who yawn through the afternoon, among properly misbehaved monkeys flying from tree to tree, among the dogs and cats of this neighborhood perfectly at ease secure in their niches, I stumble: the half step in the great chain. If I seem…
The shining door down the hall opens to admit to these corridors the familiar monsters of my dreams. They are branches that flower in winter, pools that can never freeze for they have swallowed arrows, live hearts cut out of paper. They carry warmth to headstones but suck my breath, just as overcoats smother bodies.
It was not the kind of service one would expect, considering the quality of the hotel. Around eight o'clock both Eunice and I were awakened by a heavy pounding on the door to our room that sounded once, loud and authoritatively, then decreased into what seemed a series of pulsing echoes. I staggered across the…
In the pinch of time, facing an upright piano under its paisley throw you sport a jet and agate necklace around your freckled throat. You were mad for costume jewelry — and better if it was red, and soon you ran off to marry Handsome Jack. I strain my ears after your songs, you had…
The words carry themselves as carefully as a muscular woman tricked out in sequins walking a high wire. I ask nothing of them, I only set them in motion, as gently as feathers. Birds exert themselves more than the words do. Hunger compels them, they cannot choose but fly. Words, who seek no food for…
EDITORIAL BOARD Director Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editor & Director DeWitt Henry Editorial Staff Henry Bromell David Gullette Ellen Wilbur Contributing Editors Geoffrey Clark James Randall Barry Spacks Art Director David Omar White CONTRIBUTORS ANDRE DUBUS teaches at Bradford College, has a novel, The Lieutenant, has had many distinguished short stories in The New Yorker, North…
I had been in love with you three years before. . . Driving from Maine to more Maine friendly — chatty we were both relieved to get as far away as possible from your neighbors who had spoiled our dinner with all sorts of insinuating and unstated demands that we resolve…
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